Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!
On a typical Palm Sunday, we would begin worship outside, in the church garden. We would gather, standing close to each other, and holding palm branches while hearing the story of Jesus entering Jerusalem. And then we would re-enact the day’s events, processing into the sanctuary while singing the same words that came from the lips of the crowd that day. We would start with Hosannna, in the highest, hosanna in the highest; blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. And then, upon entering the sanctuary we would sing that classic and beloved Palm Sunday hymn, All Glory Laud and Honor. All glory laud and honor to you redeemer king, to whom the lips of children let sweet hosannas ring.
There is so much I like about worship on Palm Sunday and so much that I will miss this year. We’ve had to adjust our expectations. And that’s what I’ve been thinking about this week, adjusting expectations. We’ve all had to do a lot of that, as our normal lives have been turned upside down. We’ve had to adjust our expectations for just about everything—holidays like Easter, spring break, graduations, family outings, work-life balance, visiting with grandchildren and grandparents, surgeries and doctor’s appointments, even how we get our groceries and medicine.
And so I wonder what it must have been like to be a follower or disciple of Jesus on that day he rides into Jerusalem. It’s a procession worthy of a king, yet Jesus isn’t in a chariot or on a horse or with an army—he’s riding a donkey, by himself. And after all the pomp and circumstance, he doesn’t sweep into the city and overthrow the rulers, like many had probably hoped he would. Instead, he spends some quiet days teaching and spending time with his closest followers before literally walking to his death. All of this has made me wonder about how much the disciples and others were forced to adjust their expectations.
I think in many ways, over the course of Jesus’ ministry, people’s expectations of who he was and what he came into the world to do were constantly adjusting. They had waited centuries for this Messiah, the one descended from the house of David, the one who would come to save them. Save them he does, but not in the way they might have expected. Their redemption doesn’t come by the sword or with overwhelming force; it comes through an ignominious death and equally unfathomable resurrection.
Usually, on Palm Sunday, there is a turning point in worship, a pivot from celebration to mourning. As we hear an account of the passion story, it is jarring how quickly the “hosannas” turn into shouts of “crucify him.” Maybe this proves that the people just couldn’t take one more adjustment to their expectations. They’d had it with this prophet and his vague promises. Maybe he was just a criminal, another false prophet stirring up trouble.
I’ve encountered days during this time of shelter-in-place when I feel like one more adjusted expectation will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. But then I remember that the events of this coming week—the entrance into Jerusalem, the meal with the disciples and washing of their feet, the trial and crucifixion and the resurrection after three days—all of it took place for these very moments that we find ourselves in—moments in which we feel like giving up, moments in which it’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, moments when despair seems to filter out all of the hope, moments of real pain and suffering. This unpredictable and unexpected story—Jesus’ death and resurrection—is what saves us, day in and day out. God is saying that suffering and death are real, but so is hope and new life. Worry and fear are real, but through each storm, through each dark valley, through each cloud of uncertainty, the one who came into the world meets us and walks with us each step of the way.
As we are forced to adjust our expectations, and live in this new reality, God doesn’t waver. God reminds us that love has come and is here to stay. God lifts our heads high, casting our gaze on that horizon, where the sky is always lightening with the resurrection dawn.
Hosanna in the highest, blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.